Directed towards me, said, audibly clear,
“List, list, list to me, thy oak table.”
“I was once of the forest, the monarch so bold,
“Nor tempest nor storm made me tremble;
“And oft, very oft, the famed Druids of old
“Would under my branches assemble:
“Their mysterious rights they’d perform before me,—
“Those rites to unfold I am able,
“But be that now forgot, I was then an oak tree,
“And now I am but an oak table.